


I know that I've got issues (but you're pretty messed up too)

by Lise



Series: Sam and Loki Are Roommates [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confessions, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied Relationships, Issues, Late Night Conversations, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, discussion of past relationships, human train wrecks, reference to sketchy situation, two unhappy people getting drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a rough week, and Sam and Loki jointly make the terrible decision to get drunk together. It's not as much fun as it probably should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know that I've got issues (but you're pretty messed up too)

**Author's Note:**

> So [isupportahooker](http://isupportahooker.tumblr.com) and I were talking about this verse, as we do, because it’s her fault it exists anyway. …okay, possibly also partially my fault. And somehow we got onto the topic of oh god Sam and Loki get drunk. And how terrible that would be. Because seriously.
> 
> And then this happened. And I was startled by a) how long it was and b) how serious it ended up being. Oops.

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea. And Sam really should have known that.

A terrible day in a terrible week and Sam came back to the apartment to find Loki curled up on their couch with a suspiciously blank expression and wrapped in the fleece robe he only wore when sick or miserable. He stopped in the doorway.

“Um,” he said cautiously. “Hey.” Loki seemed to snap out of a vague haze and looked at Sam. His eyes narrowed a fraction.

“You look terrible,” he said, voice more flat than worried. Sam shrugged.

“Work. You don’t look so great either.”

“Hm,” Loki said, and his eyes slid away as he pulled his robe tighter around himself like it was a turtle’s shell. He was quiet for a few moments.  Then his gaze flicked back to Sam. “Did Dean do something?”

“No,” said Sam, quickly, and then sighed. That wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t Dean’s fault and the last thing he wanted was a pissed off Loki going after his brother, and Loki always seemed to know when he was bullshitting. Loki, however, seemed more relieved than suspicious.

“Good,” he said, almost absently. “That’s…” he trailed off. Sam crossed the room and flopped on the other side of the couch.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Loki said, which was almost always the answer, though Sam recognized that airy tone to mean nothing good. Sam leaned back into the couch. Part of him wanted to just go to sleep and hope that when he woke up this whole week would be over and the next one magically better. Instead he said, “It’s not really Dean. He was just being an ass in the middle of a shit week.”

Loki was silent for several moments. Then he took a deep breath and said, quite suddenly, “I have a fair quantity of good liquor squirreled away and find myself suddenly in the mood to drink a fairly large amount of it. Interested?”

The right answer to that question was no. Sam knew that. Drinking in a bad mood didn’t usually help. He didn’t really like the feeling of not being in control of himself. What they should do was watch a dumb movie and go to sleep.

“Sure,” he said instead. “Why not? Let’s get drunk.”

* * *

“This was a bad idea,” Sam said with perfect clarity, a fair quantity of vodka later. Loki made an extremely dignified snorting sound in response.

“Of course it was. It was _mine,_ wasn’t it?” Loki poured another glass and looked momentarily like he was considering throwing it across the room. “Most of my ideas are bad. _I’m_ bad. Very very bad. But you knew that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said.

“No,” Loki said, sounding irritable. “I know _that._ But it’s still true. I do tell the truth sometimes. S’just that lying is better. Most of the time.”

“Wow,” said Sam. “That’s…bleak.”

“The world is,” Loki said. “Mostly.” He tossed back the glass and grimaced just a little. “This isn’t very good vodka.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Sam said honestly, and Loki cast him a look that was faintly disparaging.

“You will forgive me if I find that less than comforting. Your taste in alcohol is frankly abysmal.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “that’s…fair. But I don’t really drink it for the taste. So that’s kind of secondary.”

“Mmm,” Loki said, and seemed to be considering that. “That is…also fair.” He looked down at his empty glass and set it on the table. “You know. I don’t think we have ever gotten really drunk together.”

“Once,” Sam corrected, and Loki cocked his head to the side.

“Oh?”

“Well,” Sam corrected. “I got drunk. You didn’t. It was that…the thing.”

Loki’s expression switched from faint amusement to a scowl. “That was not drunk. That was Rohypnol. I recall.”

“Oh,” said Sam, and blinked, trying to remember. “…right. And you broke Brady’s nose.”

Loki poured himself another glass and sipped it, expression curiously prim. “I never liked him much.” Sam giggled, and then felt a little bad about it. He didn’t think he was really supposed to be laughing, but it seemed funny. Maybe he was more drunk than he’d thought.

“I did,” Sam said. “I liked him, I mean.”

“That is because,” Loki said, with perfect diction, “You have worse taste in people than in liquor,” and Sam laughed, probably harder than the joke actually deserved, but it was pretty funny. And kind of true.

“Yeah,” he said, “Okay. I’ll give you that one. Or maybe I’m just drawn to psychopaths.”

“One of my brothers’ friends once told me I was a psychopath,” Loki said, conversationally, and Sam winced.

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yes,” Loki said. “Admittedly she was was quite angry at the time and I am not certain she meant it. I’m afraid Sif never liked me very much.”

“Wow,” said Sam. “Still. Seriously. That’s a hell of a thing to say to someone.”

“Mmm. I suppose. Do you know, Thor used to say he would marry her? Of course, he also used to say that she was more man than I was…”

“Ouch,” said Sam. “Wow. No offense, but your brother sounds like kind of an ass.”

“Yes, well,” Loki said, and threw Sam a lopsided smile. “I probably deserved it.”

“Hm, yeah,” Sam said, “Maybe. I mean, sometimes. But still. That doesn’t really make it _okay,_ you know? Lots of people deserve lots of things that don’t get…lots.”

Loki stared at him. “That did not,” he said, “Make the least amount of sense.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam said. “You can’t have everything,” which he was pretty sure also didn’t really make sense, but at least made Loki snicker. Sam would count that as a little bit of a win.

“What about you?” Loki asked. “Any childhood tales from your end?”

“Um. Not so much. Mostly me doing stupid shit with Dean and getting in trouble over it.”

“With your father.” Sam fidgeted.

“You should probably take anything I say about him with a grain of salt. We didn’t really get along. For…a lot of reasons.”

“Such as the fact that he was an alcoholic mess prone to taking his temper out on you?”

“Living with John wasn’t that bad,” Sam protested. “Least, not for a while. Mostly it was just kind of…tense. Cause you were never quite sure what kind of day it was going to be. And it’s not like…I mean, he had his reasons. For being a mess. And it’s not like me and Dean are all that normal either.”

Loki frowned. “Everything you have told me of your father makes me like him less, and I did not like him much to begin with.”

“You hardly like anyone, though,” Sam pointed out, and Loki threw Sam a look that was almost offended.

“I like you,” he said, sounding affronted, and Sam blinked at him, and then couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest and the stupid grin that crossed his face. He was pretty sure Loki hadn’t said that before.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah?”

Loki fidgeted, suddenly looking awkward. It didn’t suit him. “You’re not a bad person, Sam,” Loki said. “And your brother’s…an asshole. Really. But you should…don’t lose him. You need him.”

“You need your brother too,” Sam said, and Loki coughed a laugh.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I need him. I need him and he could do without me, always could. What am I without him, after all? Nothing much, but he never – never really wanted me there. Always – holding him back.”

“He doesn’t see it like that.”

Loki shook his head. “He doesn’t see it at all. Never has. Thor sees what suits him and that is…that is the extent of it.” He waved a hand above his head and lowered his voice, deepening it to an exaggerated version of Thor’s. “Loki, why are you not more like me? Loki, why do you cause such a fuss? Loki, I have never applied myself once in my life and received everything on a platter, how hard can it be-”

“Whoa,” said Sam. “Don’t get mad. I don’t want you to get mad. You’re actually kind of scary when you’re mad.”

Loki looked like he was trying to decide if he was pleased or not by that. “I am?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “A little. I mean. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t come after me but. Still.”

“I would not,” Loki assured him.”That would be. Terribly counterproductive. And you have not made me angry with you yet, not really.”

“Not even the time when I tried to tell you you needed to see a therapist cause you couldn’t deal on your own?” Oh, oops. Sam hadn’t meant to say that. Loki was quiet for several moments.

 “I need more vodka,” Loki said, firmly. “I am clearly not drunk enough yet.”

“Is that how that works?” Sam asked. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

“No,” Loki disagreed, almost politely, “That’s definitely how it works.”

* * *

“I made a list, you know,” Loki said, voice a little slurred. “The good and bad. The pros and cons. Wanted to be logical. Is that silly? I think it might be a little silly.”

Sam was confused. He had a vague idea that he probably shouldn’t be confused, but he was, nonetheless, confused. “What?”

“Oh,” said Loki. “When I was…having my little crisis. That’s what mother calls it, you know. ‘Loki’s little crisis.’ She makes it sound like a misbehaving pet.” A pause, and Loki snorted. “S’pose that makes sense, I _am_ a little bit like their stray cat-”

“You should never get drunk,” Sam informed him.

“I shouldn’t,” Loki agreed. “I know that. I never feel better. I usually feel worse. Somehow I never remember that, though. I wasn’t, though, you know. Then. I thought it might make it easier but it also seemed like it might make me more likely to botch it, which I guess I did anyway-”

“Stop it,” Sam said, and his voice sounded harsher than he meant it to. “I don’t like – it’s not funny. You never want to talk about it normally and now you are but it’s…just don’t.”

Loki was watching him with a strange expression. “All right,” he said, though, slowly. “I won’t.”

“You don’t know what it was like,” Sam said, and wanted to stop but couldn’t make his mouth close. “It was like – it was like Jess all over again, and I still couldn’t do anything. I can never do anything. Not when it’s really important.”

Loki made a faint sound, and Sam looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“You never talk about her. Jess,” Loki said, almost quietly, his eyes mostly lowered and just glancing at Sam out of corners, as though looking at him straight might frighten him away. That dragged Sam up short. “You never…” He trailed off.

He didn’t talk about Jess, Sam realized. Hadn’t for a couple years now. Had shoved her down somewhere deep where it could hurt less. That was…that seemed suddenly unfair.

“I still miss her sometimes,” he said, suddenly. “I mean, it’s just like…there’s never going to be another Jess, you know? And I should have…”

“It’s not your fault,” Loki said, almost sharply. “It’s…not. Don’t…make it your fault. She wouldn’t like it. And it’s just – just – you don’t. You are too hard on yourself. It is… _I_ do not like it. You are a good person, Sam, truly a good person, and it is…it is _sad._ ” Loki’s voice started to sound a little choked up and wet. Sam’s eyes were stinging.

“Oh,” he said. “Um. Thanks?”

Loki looked awkward again. Which was weird, and kind of surreal. Loki just didn’t _look_ like that. And then shoved another bottle at him. “Have more. You are not drunk enough.” Sam took the bottle and looked at it for a few minutes, then poured himself a glass. Loki stared pensively into the distance, and scrunched up his nose.  “This isn’t working,” he said, sounding dangerously morose. Sam eyed him.

“What isn’t?”

“I thought if I got you drunk maybe you would tell me what was bothering you but now I am telling you what is bothering me, again. And I _always…_ you never say what’s bothering you.”

“You hardly ever tell me what’s bothering you,” Sam protested, and Loki gave him an odd look. “You don’t,” Sam said. “I just…guess. Most of the time. And then we talk around it and avoid the subject and find a good distraction. Emotional health at its finest. And I don’t talk about what’s bothering me because…I don’t know. It’d be stupid.”

“Why?” Loki asked.

Sam hunched his shoulders. “It’s not…I mean. It’s not important.”

“You say that,” Loki said, and shook his head. “I think you are really saying ‘I’m not important.’ Which is just – which is frankly _absurd._ ”

“Well, I’m not, really,” Sam said. A cork bounced off the side of his head and he glared at Loki. “What? I’m not.”

“You are,” Loki said, and there was a stubborn set to his mouth. “And it is – it is foolish of you to say otherwise. So do not. If I did not find you worthwhile I would not converse with you.”

“That’s…” Sam shook his head. “That’s not the point. At all. The point is that I’m not…there are so many people who have it worse off than me. It’d be dumb. To complain.”

“Speaking foolishness has never stopped you in one of our many debates.”

“Hey!” Sam objected. “—Asshole. That’s not. I mean, it’s like…Jess. I still miss her, and that’s…that’s just. That’s selfish, cause it’s like I’m making it all about me, and it’s not, I mean, she’s the one who’s dead and there’s her family and it’s not…it’s not about me.”

Loki was looking at his empty glass as if it were the only thing in the world. “Is anything?” He asked, suddenly, and there was a weird note to his voice.

“…what?”

Loki huffed something like a laugh. “You feel worthless. Isn’t that it? Of little importance, of little relevance. Your brother would miss you if you were gone, perhaps, but the place you occupy in the world is so very small and so very replaceable. Everyone else is more worthy than you are, and it is important not to forget that.” His voice had gone very soft, and very bleak. Sam wanted to wince, and tried to make himself laugh.

“Wow,” he said, “Are you sure you’re talking about me?”

“No,” said Loki, bluntly, and glanced up. “We have a lot in common, you and I. The only difference is that you have…you have chosen to direct your energy rather more constructively. I focus mine on being a misanthropic bastard.” Loki raised his glass. “I suppose my way might be more fun?”

Sam chewed on his lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe. Sometimes people are just…dumb. A lot of times. Actually.”

“You will have no disagreement from me there.” Loki reached for a mostly empty bottle of…something…and sloshed some into his glass. Held it out to Sam, who offered his to be filled. “Do you know the main reason I do not get drunk more often? Other than the fact that I do not particularly enjoy the feeling. I am scared that I will – that I will call Thor. And admit that I miss – that I miss-” Loki trailed off. He took a large swallow from his glass.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “I get it.” He stared at nothing, for a while. “—it was Dean,” he said, finally, without really meaning to. “I mean. It was just a stupid argument. Shouldn’t even have been a big deal. But we were both mad and he was just saying…the same old stuff that Dad used to say, I guess. About how I argue for the sake of arguing and don’t know how to be part of a family and…shit. And it…got to me. More than it should’ve, probably. So I walked out and he was still throwing stuff at me about how I always walk away from my problems, how that’s always my solution, running away…”

Loki was watching him sideways, out of the corner of his eyes.

“—sometimes I don’t think I’m the brother Dean wants,” Sam said, finally, and a moment later felt excruciatingly stupid for saying it, and looked at his glass, flushing. After a few moments of silence, Loki sighed.

“It is fine. I have never been what anyone wanted me to be,” Loki said bleakly, and Sam raised his glass.

“Yeah,” he echoed. “Here’s to being a disappointment.”

They drank to that.

* * *

Sam lost track of most of the evening after that. He was pretty sure there was a point where they ended up crying into each others’ shoulders, and he thought he remembered a rendition of Loreena McKennit’s “The Highwayman” (the whole thing), and he was pretty sure Loki had admitted to thinking Steve Rogers was gorgeous (Sam told him to hit that) and Sam was pretty sure he’d admitted to that one time he and Dean had kissed each other to see if it’d be weird (it wasn’t).

But he definitely woke up with the light of early afternoon in his eyes, the slamming of the front door making his head echo, and a pounding headache. Also Loki curled up half on top of him and his own arms around his roommate like an octopus, face comfortably snuggled in his shoulder.

 _Goddamn,_ he thought, and said, “Whozzat,” as quietly as he thought would be audible.

“Oh,” said a too familiar voice. “Um. Am I interrupting something?” Dean sounded positively gleeful. Sam winced.

“Dean,” he said. “Not now.” Note to self, Sam observed, the booze being good didn’t actually make the hangover any better. He tried to shift away from Loki without waking him up. No dice. Loki opened one bleary eye with a small and almost kitten-like sound of protest.

“God, I wish I had a camera,” Dean was saying. “This should be recorded. For posterity.”

“’Zat your brother,” Loki murmured blearily.

“Yeah,” said Sam, sourly.

“Tell him that if he does not lower his voice I will throw him out the window,” Loki said, and closed his eyes again. “Swear I am going to change the locks. …my head hurts.”

“Rough night?” Dean said, and sounded like he was grinning even more. Sam managed to disentangle an arm enough to flip him the bird. God. He was pretty sure he remembered…a lot he didn’t want to remember. A lot of rambling. A lot of emoting. A lot of complaining about his life.

Goddammit.

“Great night,” Sam mumbled. “Thanks very much.” Ah, god. Dean had. He and Dean had had an argument. He’d bitched to Loki about his argument with Dean. He really hoped Loki didn’t remember.

“Stop talking,” said Loki, and then winced and said, “Oh, _no-_ ” and promptly lurched off Sam and for the bathroom, which moments later emitted the sound of enthusiastic retching. Dean glanced over toward the bathroom and then back to Sam, and raised his eyebrows.

“…can’t hold his liquor?"

“In his defense,” Sam said, rubbing his forehead, “We had a lot.” The bottles were still on the table. It looked like the wreckage from a recovering Alcoholic Anonymous member’s party. “Um. You probably shouldn’t…hang around here. I may have. Drunkenly vented about a few things.” He glanced toward the bathroom, and looked back at Dean, and was surprised to see his brother looking somewhat…shamefaced.

“…yeah,” he said. “I don’t…I don’t blame you. I was…I shouldn’t have said everything I did. It was a stupid argument anyway, and I didn’t…I got kinda worried. When you didn’t call or anything.”

“Call?” Sam said, blankly. Dean rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “Call. You usually do, when we have a fight. A couple hours later, just to…I don’t know. Make sure I haven’t done something stupid, I guess. But anyway. I…yeah. You get it.”

Sam got it. Dean almost never said sorry – was like Loki, that way – but you got it when he meant it anyway. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it.” _Your brother’s an asshole,_ he remembered. _But you shouldn’t…lose him. You need him._

 _Yeah,_ Sam thought, _and what about you, you never said why you needed to get drunk, you said a lot and didn’t say anything at all, not really._ The sound of retching had ceased, and he heard Loki make the smallest unhappy sound.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “But I’ve gotta…” he nodded toward the bathroom. Dean looked awkward again.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve gotta…work and everything. But we’re good, right?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re good.”

He waited until Dean closed the door to go over to the bathroom and look at Loki, who was still on the floor in front of the toilet, looking profoundly miserable. “You were listening, weren’t you,” Sam accused.

“Maybe a little,” Loki said, and gave Sam a weak, sharpish smile. It faded quickly, though, and his eyes dropped. “I can manage myself, if you would like to…spend time reconciling with your brother.”

Sam wondered if Loki would ever not look at him like that, with that hint of wariness back in his eyes like he was always expecting Sam to laugh and yank the rug out and say _ha, just kidding, I never really liked you, sucker._ It always made Sam want to punch everyone who’d ever made him think that way.

He offered his own lopsided grin. His head hurt like hell and his stomach was roiling a little, but it’d wear off. “Nah,” he said. “I have a roommate to look after, huh?”

They were both messes, maybe. But they’d do all right. And they’d keep doing all right. And that was at least mostly good enough.


End file.
